Ric pulled up through the back of the property and parked at the top of the rear drive. He held his phone tightly against his head as he walked, arm swinging. His briefcase tapped against his leg as he strode past the pool, grotto and man-made waterfall.
"He's right. It's over," he said as he approached the sliding glass doors. He turned left and headed to the back door. "Whoever attacked Randy is long gone. Haven't heard a damn thing about it since."
Ric punched in the security code, the day of Stacy's high school graduation, and gripped the doorknob. "No shit," he said, twisting and pushing the door in. "The cops have given up, but we're not. Call in all our connections, Hunter. Find that jackass. I'm going to work on him with a pair of pliers and a blow torch."
He laughed as he moved inside, closing the door behind him. "Yeah, great movie, wasn't it?" He laughed again, then shook his head. "We'll teach this guy not to fuck with us." He paused and locked the door behind him. "I'm inside, and I still have to call Stacy before I turn in. She's working late. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Ric flipped the phone closed and stuffed it into his pocket. He turned around into the darkness of his kitchen, and started to walk forward. He moved through the den and turned down a long hallway leading to his office. He took two steps forward, then was hit in the back of the head twice, hard. He fell to his knees. His briefcase hit the floor. One more blow, and he was face down, unconscious.
When Ric came to, he was in the living room, stripped down to crisp white boxer shorts. He tried to move and his back screamed. He slowly rose his head to see his hands tied together, attached to the overhanging banister above. He looked down and the tips of his toes touched the floor.
The rays of the moon came in through the window and lit Ric in a glowing circle of light. His attacker was just out of reach and view. Only the tips of his black, steel-toed boots were inside the circle of light. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Isn't that the question of the millenium." His laugh was dark and sinister. "Wouldn't you like to know. Randy wanted to know, too, and he would have if his bitch hadn't shown up when she did."
Ric squinted his eyes, trying to see into the darkness. Maybe if the room were pitch black... The light coming from outside inhibited his night vision. "You..."
"A pair of pliers and a blow torch, huh?" He smirked. "Not very inventive there, Ric. But, then again, we all take the best parts of some things."
"What? What the hell are you talking about? You had better let me down from here." He jerked his body hard, hoping to break something to get free. He would have fallen, but he would have been at a better advantage than he was at currently. "I'm Ric Flair, goddammit! You'll wish you were in Hell when I'm through with you!"
"Yeah, yeah, you're Ric Flair. Damn, we hear that a lot, don't we?" He snickered. "Back to movies, though, since you like movies."
Ric bucked his body to no avail. Whatever was holding him up there was tight. No matter how hard he pulled, he couldn't get free. All he did was send his body into even more agonizing pain. "Let me down, goddammit!"
The man stepped into the light, covered from head to toe in blue. He looked like he was ready for surgery and the knife in his hand should have been a scalpel. The only thing that showed was his pale face and bright, sadistic grin. Even his eyes were covered by a pair of thick plastic safety goggles.
"Ever seen Murder By Numbers, Ric?" He moved closer and twisted the knife so the light bounced off of the blade. "No hair samples were found. Nothing attaching the killers to the victim. It was really pretty clever."
"What the fuck are you babbling about!" Ric jerked again. "And get the fuck away from me! I'll kill you when I get down, you hear me! I'll grind your bones into fucking dust and pass you around. We'll smoke your filthy, cowardly ass up and no one will ever know that you even existed!"
"Talk it up, Flair." He stepped forward, closer to him, still twirling his knife. "This is your last speech, and all. Make it a good one."
"I'll kill you!"
"You've already said that!" He rushed him and stared up into his face. He was tall enough that even with Flair dangling, his head came up to his chin. "Say something new. Or... shut up and let me talk." He snickered and moved back an inch. "Only difference between now and Murder By Numbers is... they had an obsessive Sandra Bullock on their tail with a score to settle. You, my enemy, my friend... You only have Detective Chris Benoit. He could give less than a damn if you died."
"Evolution will destroy you, your mother, your father, your whole fucking family! Future generations of your family will feel the pain!"
Though the knife was so close to him, Ric wouldn't show his fear. He could see enough through the plastic to glimpse anger, enraged eyes, but still he didn't cower. If this was going to be the end of the line, he was going out like a fucking storm trooper. There was no fear in Ric Flair, not for this cowardly man who hid behind a mask.
"There will be no Evolution, Ric. They're all going to fall. I'm going to finish off Orton and... by now..." He stopped and turned to look at the grandfather clock chiming against the wall. "...Helmsley and Batista should be incinerated. No one left to care but poor little Stacy. Gorgeous little Stacy of the long legs. Maybe I'll let her dance for me in a cage."
For only a second did Ric let fear well up in him, and it was quickly replaced by anger. This guy could do all he wanted to him, but he didn't want him touching Stacy. She was an innocent. She was not apart of whatever had gotten him into this mess.
"You touch her and I swear to God, I will kill you."
"It'll have to be as a ghost Ric because..." He stepped up to him and pressed the tip of the blade against his lower gut, right above the drooping line of his underwear. "...you won't be alive to do anything else."
He plunged the knife in deep. Blood poured over his hand and Ric screamed. He only laughed and drove the knife in deeper. He leaned in closer, enough so to speak to Ric but not let any part of his body touch his. "I'll say hi to Stacy for ya." Ric screamed again, this time with rage. The knife was ripped up his body, slicing through his internal organs. It came to stop as it knicked against his rib. The knife was pulled out, then plunged deep into Ric's chest.
The murderer pulled it out and watched the blood swirl down the steel, coat his gloved hand, then drip to the floor. He stepped back and picked up Ric's cell phone. He dialed a quick number then said, "Say goodbye to Daddy," and hung up. He hurled the phone against the wall, walked into the kitchen to wash his blade, then casually walked out the back of Ric's home, whistling a non-distinct tune.
...go back